Suffering Well and Suffering With: Reclaiming Marks of Christian Identity

By Aimee Patterson

We live in a society that has little tolerance for suffering. Suffering is not only unpleasant. Profound, innocent suffering can upend our sense of identity. Yet, we push suffering people to the periphery to avoid an uncomfortable truth: We are all subject to suffering. In a time when Christian churches suffer the loss of authority, influence, and membership, Patterson challenges the idea that we need such power to live on earth as in heaven. Only God can transform suffering into joy. Drawing on her experience with cancer, Patterson claims Christians hold certain responsibilities while we wait for this transformation. Revisiting the story of Job, she confronts the problem of suffering and what it takes to suffer well. This sets the scene for what a fleshy, wounded Jesus Christ calls us to do: use suffering to build compassionate relationships with others who suffer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cascade Books
• Release date: Sep 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9781666765472

Book preview

Suffering Well and Suffering With

Reclaiming Marks of Christian Identity

Aimee Patterson

Suffering Well and Suffering With

Reclaiming Marks of Christian Identity

Copyright ©

2023

Aimee Patterson. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions, Wipf and Stock Publishers,

199

W.

8

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3

, Eugene, OR

97401

.

Cascade Books

An Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers

199

W.

8

th Ave., Suite

3

Eugene, OR

97401

www.wipfandstock.com

paperback isbn: 978-1-6667-6545-8

hardcover isbn: 978-1-6667-6546-5

ebook isbn: 978-1-6667-6547-2

Cataloguing-in-Publication data:

Names: Patterson, Aimee, author.

Title: Suffering well and suffering with : reclaiming marks of Christian identity / by Aimee Patterson.

Description: Eugene, OR: Cascade Books,

2023

| Series: New Studies in Theology and Trauma | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers:

isbn 978-1-6667-6545-8

(paperback) |

isbn 978-1-6667-6546-5

(hardcover) |

isbn 978-1-6667-6547-2

(ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Suffering—Religious aspects. | Identification (Religion)

Classification:

BF789.S8 P38

2023

(paperback) |

BF789.S8

(ebook)

08/23/23

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright ©

1989

National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America and used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Scripture quotations marked CEV are from the Contemporary English Version Copyright ©

1991

,

1992

,

1995

by American Bible Society. Used by Permission.

Scripture quotations marked CJB are from the Complete Jewish Bible by David H. Stern. Copyright ©

1998

. All rights reserved. Used by permission of Messianic Jewish Publishers,

6120

Day Long Lane, Clarksville, MD

21029

. www.messianicjewish.net.

Scripture quotations marked The Message are from The Message, copyright ©

1993

,

2002

,

2018

by Eugene H. Peterson. Used by permission of NavPress. All rights reserved. Represented by Tyndale House Publishers.

Scripture quotations marked NIV are from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright ©

1973

,

1978

,

1984

,

2011

by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

Table of Contents

Title Page

Series Preface for New Studies in Theology and Trauma

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Part 1: Suffering Well

Chapter 1: Reclaiming Our Identity

Chapter 2: Between Two Extremes

Chapter 3: Suffering without Answers

Chapter 4: Our Suffering God

Part 2: Suffering With

Chapter 5: A Communion of Compassion

Chapter 6: Lament

Chapter 7: Hosts and Guests

Chapter 8: Communities in Solidarity

Bibliography

"Aimee Patterson knows the deep, excruciating, endless realities of suffering. In this book she moves readers to feel the pain, to know the bodily, intellectual, and emotional suffering in their bones, to consider the morality of suffering including the necessity of suffering with others who ache, agonize, and grieve. With beautiful clarity she places the power of suffering well and suffering with before our eyes, urging us to faithful action."

—Roy R. Jeal, professor emeritus of religion, Booth University College

In this open, honest, and profound reflection, Aimee Patterson brilliantly takes us through a diagnosis to the isolating power of illness, to transformation, to questions of theodicy, to a superb retelling of Job, and to a reclaiming of Christianity as a faith of and for suffering. This book—a call for us to be present to and in our shared vulnerability—is an invaluable one for a church and a world that is in dire need of a renewed commitment to the sacred ministry of suffering (well) with others.

—Cory Andrew Labrecque, professor and chair of bioethics and theological ethics, Université Laval

This powerful book offers a rare combination of academic substance and personal testimony. Aimee Patterson’s traumatic story is moving in and of itself, and she tells it with courageous honesty. But her rich theological analysis transforms the story into a challenging and hope-filled prescription for a post-Christendom church that has forgotten how to suffer well and suffer with others. It is a profound contribution that will inspire scholars and church leaders alike.

—James E. Pedlar, chair of Wesley studies, Tyndale University

Aimee Patterson’s book combines an authenticity born out of her personal experience as a young wife and mother who unexpectedly was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor and her deep knowledge of the Christian tradition to help us think about what it means to suffer well and to suffer with (others). When I finished reading the book I felt as though I had been treading on sacred ground.

—Donald E. Burke, professor of biblical studies, Booth University College

New Studies in Theology and Trauma

Series Editors:

Joshua Cockayne

Scott Harrower

Preston Hill

and

Chelle Stearns

Forthcoming Books in the Series:

Deborah Hunsinger, Trauma-Informed Christian Counseling: Theology and Psychology in Dialogue

Formerly Published Books in the Series:

Sarah Travis, Unspeakable: Preaching and Trauma-Informed Theology

For Phil

the love of my life

Deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory,

For ever and ever.

—The Lord’s Prayer

New Studies in Theology and Trauma

New Studies in Theology and Trauma is a series of entry-level monographs in Christian theology, engaging trauma. The series showcases work at the intersection of trauma and theology from emerging scholars in this new discipline. Each volume will be approximately 60 , 000 – 80 , 000 words long according to the topic at hand. Monographs in the series are aimed at exploring: (i) how trauma studies and trauma theory can inform theological method, (ii) how theology can be used as a frame for understanding trauma, (iii) and how churches and faith communities can facilitate theologically informed, effective trauma care.

Recent neuroscience has confirmed that surviving traumatic violence leaves lifelong scars in the brain and body, and that the body keeps the score. This persistent reality of trauma poses a unique challenge to Christian communities and churches. Thankfully, many of these communities have begun to recognize that trauma and abuse do not happen out there but are horrors that occur within our own ranks, with many Christians calling out for justice for victims that have hidden in the shadows far too long. Christians cannot avoid confronting trauma that is tragically manifesting within our own church communities. When trauma is perpetrated by pastors and Christian leaders, this threatens to undermine a Christian witness to the gospel. As a result, trauma is raising the stakes on theological truth-claims made by Christians. This leaves a door wide open for Christians to explore the intersection of theology and trauma.

Given the emerging state of literature on theology and trauma currently, there is a need to solidify the intuitions shared by scholars in the many disciplines of theology and biblical studies and signal a constructive and generative approach for the future of this growing field. The present series seeks to fill this need by offering a series of monographs grouped around a double witness: a witness to the laments and losses involved in surviving trauma and a witness to God’s ongoing presence and agency in the aftermath of violence. By promoting a double-witness approach in this series, authors engaging theology and trauma will be provided a coherent and fruitful platform for witnessing both the wounds of trauma and the healing in recovery for communities today.

We have started this series because trauma calls for faithful and generative witness, which is why we have selected the Australian lyrebird as the symbol for our series. The lyrebird is able to listen carefully to sounds of its surroundings, then repeat these back in concert with new voices as part of a broader song. This new song is unique in that it faithfully reflects the original sounds into a new context of richer harmony. Likewise, empathetic listening that faithfully witnesses the wounds of trauma while remaining open to renewed hope within a larger frame is the core idea of the New Studies in Trauma and Theology series.

Series Editors:

Joshua Cockayne, Scott Harrower, Preston Hill, and Chelle Stearns

Acknowledgments

The contributions from the groups and individuals named below have helped me fill these pages. Any errors are my own.

I was inspired to write this book after experiencing the kind of suffering that forever alters a life. I had a story to tell. Just as stories need to be told, so they need to be heard. Thanks go out to my editors, Preston Hill and Chelle Stearns, for hearing my story and helping me shape it into a book. I appreciate your counsel and encouragement.

Others have listened attentively to my story too. Thanks to my colleagues who, in a variety of ways, helped me frame my ideas. Cathie Harris, I always enjoy our long lunches! As my friend and unofficial spiritual care provider, you have accompanied me from a place of finding the words to describe my suffering to a place of articulated hope. Thanks to Donald Burke, Jim and Sheila Ellis, Sharon Jones-Ryan, Doug Koop, and Eleanor Shepherd for your readiness to exchange thoughts on how Scripture, theology, and Christian practice intersect with suffering and compassion. Thanks to Larissa Kanhai, Emily MacFarlane, and Erin Metcalf, and especially to Roy Jeal, Jim Read, and Phil, for faithfully reading numerous manuscript drafts and offering incisive comments. You gave me courage by showing faith in my abilities and pushing me to do better.

So many people have demonstrated practical compassion to me, bearing the burdens my family carried through times of acute suffering. Thanks to the members of St. Mary’s Road United Church and Heritage Park Community Church, as well as to my extended network of family, friends, and colleagues for delivering meals, shuttling, caring for my children, cleaning my house, and taking on other tasks. You will never know how much your support means to me.

My gratitude extends to the health care professionals who have provided me treatment and continue to keep tabs on my health. Thanks for saving my life. And thanks for the post-op steroid prescription that woke me up so early each morning. It is responsible for the feverish journaling that took place during those solitary hours. My journal supplied me with some of the details contained here. More importantly, it helped me put words to my suffering.

I owe so much to friends who popped by or traveled to be with me during the isolating months of treatment: Karalyn Bagshaw, Jenn Hedges, Larissa Kanhai, Krissy and Fraser Keppie, Becky Kershaw, Jeff Murray, Lindsay Murray, and Sandra and Gerald Proulx. I know there are others I have neglected to mention. Thanks for the smoothies, the honest talks, and the gift of presence.

There is a special place in my heart for my fellow patient members of Winnipeg’s Brain Tumour Support Group, both those who have died and those who continue to suffer in this life. Thanks, Connor and Glynis, for becoming friends with Phil and me at a time when our respective sufferings shared much in common.

So many people have prayed for me, my family, and our well-being—people I know well and people I had never met. Thank you.

I have tremendous parents-in-law. Jim and Laurie, you have provided me with slow medicine. Laurie, you came with me to those early health care appointments, taking careful notes and explaining all the medical jargon. Your knowledge and bedside manner are precious gifts. Jim, you encouraged me to think more deeply and ethically from the perspective of a suffering person. This has helped me see what a suffering world requires of each one of us. Thank you. I love you both!

I also have exceptional parents. Mom and Dad, I wouldn’t be the person I am today without you. You have always been there for me, giving me room to speak freely and honestly. When it comes to compassion, it was you who taught me the importance of presence. You crossed a continent several times to sit with me on my ash heap. And even when you weren’t physically with me, I sensed your presence. In fact, I carried you around in my purse, Mom. (Well, it was a picture of you in an advertisement on a facial tissue wrapper. Isn’t it amazing to think that something like that can be comforting?) And Dad, you have made sure that I never have reason to doubt that you love me and are proud of me. Thank you. I love you both!

Phil, you have suffered so well with me. Because of you, I know what it is to have someone’s grief intermingle with my own. You have been faithful to me and our family in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad. And you have taught me that crying and laughing are not so far apart. (’Tis but a flesh wound!) But you have your own suffering experience and your own story to tell. I hope someday you will write about it. Thank you. I love you!

In chapters 5 and 7, I speak to the transformative power that comes with bearing, birthing, and parenting children. Kids, you are my delight each day. Thank you. I love you both!

While in treatment, deep in lament, I made a deal with God. I agreed to suffer. I agreed to remain faithful to God, to maintain a hope in the fullness of God’s kingdom where suffering is transformed to joy. In return, I asked God to let me live long enough to see my children through high school. God, you have kept your end of the bargain to this point. I am profoundly grateful.

But I want more. College? Marriage, perhaps?

"

Introduction

I say to God, my rock,

"Why have you forgotten me?

Why must I walk about mournfully

because the enemy oppresses me?"

As with a deadly wound in my body,

my adversaries taunt me,

while they say to me continually,

Where is your God?

—Ps

42

:

9

–

10

Where are you, God, in my suffering? Why are you letting me (making me?) suffer? Why have you abandoned me?"

In experiences of suffering, I have asked questions like these.

Suffering and Isolation

I was thirty-one. My husband, Phil, and I were happy parents of a toddler and a nine-month-old. Phil was serving as an ordained minister of the United Church of Canada. I had spent my entire life in school, which culminated in a PhD in Christian ethics focusing on end-of-life care. After two and a half years of parenting, I had secured a job as an ethicist at The Salvation Army Ethics Centre—a role perfectly suited to my professional expertise and passion for social justice. Sure, I had a baby who had fitful waking patterns. But years of breastfeeding had helped me get used to piecemeal sleep. It was nothing I couldn’t handle. Everything was neatly in place.

Two months into my job, a headache turned into a focal seizure.

I had experienced headaches in my right temple for years, assuming they were migraines. Some were mild, others intense, but they could usually be alleviated with silence. And ibuprofen. With time, their pressure increased, sometimes lasting more than a day. I’d go to bed early to sleep it off and wake up in pain. Occasionally headaches were accompanied by nausea. But there was no perceivable pattern to their occurrence, and I had always considered myself to have a low threshold for pain. So, I would wait for the headaches to end. They always did.

This headache was not among the most painful, but its symptoms were distressing. At my desk, I found myself squinting to read the words on the computer screen. Then I had trouble discerning the meaning of a sentence. Quickly my vision became blurred. I couldn’t make out the words. This was followed by